Pendant
by elfinmyth
Summary: Harry goes to Hogwarts for his sixth year, but he isn't the same anymore. for him, eight years have passed, which he and his lover used to decide what it is they want. Now, back again, they need to get the Light side accept their choices. slash, HPLV, rewritten version.
1. Chapter 1

This story is based on a Volturi Pendant that I got for one of my birthdays, and I thought it fit Voldemort amazingly well…

With this story, there ar a few things in canon that I ignore. The Hallows, for example -though I have only read four stories where they**did** play a role- and the fact that Harry is a Horcrux.

I don't own anything you recognise form the HP universe, nor do I own anything related to Northern mythology.

XxX is POV change, a lateral stripe like the one below is a time skip.

**note: this is a rewritten version. In the original, I had changed Voldemort's appearance back to his youthful self, but as a dear friend of mine pointed out, I had no reason other than superficiality for this.** –and it was also a good opportunity to fix all grammar and spelling…- So, thank you, Athdara, this version is for you, as you know. ^^

* * *

He felt it the moment the students came in and took their respective places, after another summer holiday. An Aura very familiar to him, yet, he could not place his finger on whose it was…It had an overwhelming presence, but strangely soothing as well, a cloud of protectiveness and…love. There was no other word for the strange feeling. Strange, because it was entangled and intertwined with an alluring, dangerous darkness. No, he could not place it, although he couldn't shake off the feeling that he **should **know it.

He clasped his hands together and searched for the one it came from, shocked when reaching out his magic to the source, and opening his eyes to stare at bright green ones. Those eyes, that black hair. It couldn't be… Harry Potter.

But it wasn't his Aura, he noticed after the shock was over. He was relieved, actually, for if the boy already harboured that darkness within him…he shuddered at the mere thought. But alas, it wasn't his, although it cloaked his, surrounding him like a blanket. It couldn't have been Harry's anyway. No magical Aura could change so much in such a short time. And he had seen the boy two months ago. He noticed, however, that it **had **changed somewhat, not being as pure as it had once been, that much he could feel. Harry's Aura wasn't very clear to him, being overwhelmed by the other…but how could it be pure, after what had happened? The Death of his Godfather only one of the possible reasons.

He wondered though, what that Aura was and what could have happened that it was carried by Harry. Of course, much had happened to the boy, especially previous year, when racing against Voldemort to get the prophecy. He even had had Voldemort in his mind, the poor child. All his secrets, seen by the one person he most probably did not want them to be seen by. Yes, he had had to endure much, much more than Albus had ever thought he should have. And now this… this **darkness**, although the love in it was unmistakable. It was confusing, to say the least.

He observed the boy closely, noticing strange behaviour. He looked…aged. Irritated by the childish bickering of his friends, and practically shaking with the need to run out, be alone and put his hands over his ears to block out the sounds… To be at peace, if only for a while. But he just sat there, attempting to smile at the jokes, though it was a little strained. He masked it well, and if Albus hadn't spent so much time with Severus, who was a master at hiding his emotions, he wouldn't have noticed. Glancing over at said man, he saw that he too had his gazed fixed on Harry, though strangely enough, he did not seem surprised. If he didn't know better, he would've believed there to be concern in Severus's eyes…

XxX

Harry sat at the table, trying to block his friends out. Merlin, they were annoying. After having spent such a long time with so much more mature and intelligent people, one of them a mastermind, he found himself unable to fall back in his role as the cheerful Harry Potter. They left him mostly alone, thank heavens. Probably due to the fact that they thought he was still mourning over Sirius's death. How ironically, he thought, his lips setting in a grim, humourless smile, that the very thing he had been broken over for so long, was the thing that helped him most now.

He wasn't mourning any more. Thinking of Sirius still left a stinging feeling however, particularly because he knew Sirius would never have been able to accept who he had become now, the choices he had made. But it had been a long time for him…years. He wondered what he was doing here, amidst of people he found it difficult to associate with now. Children, whereas he himself was truly a grown man now, mentally at least. His body was forever frozen in time.

He smiled to himself at that thought. Even though he had wanted to wait with it until he was at least of age, it didn't bother him so much any more as it had. His lover had practically forced it upon him, not wanting a **no**for answer. He could understand the man now however. He was horribly overprotective of his beloved, and wanted no harm to come to him, under any circumstance. And to Tom, who was terribly afraid of death himself, thought of ageing as a threat as well. Harry was just glad he had kept his own eyes… While Tom's had turned to the most beautiful shade of blue after his madness had left, the first Horcruxes he had made had slowly changed the irises to ruby at first. The other changes to the man's body had never left though

He chuckled inwardly at the thought of how he would look with such a body. No, the consequences of his Horcrux were not as visible as Tom's, only paling his skin down a few tones, which he didn't mind, since Tom loved it, saying it brought out his eyes much more. Of course, he only had one, whereas Tom had seven… one of them lying against his bare skin at the moment, held into place by a golden chain, hanging around his neck. He felt the little metal heartbeat of the pendant, and reminded himself that he would be with his lover again soon. Truly, he wasn't here to stay longer than a few days. He just needed to speak to the Headmaster. He wondered what he would think of him now…

When he had met the eyes of Dumbledore, he knew that the man knew that something was off about him, and he wondered if he could feel the pendant Tom had given him to guard over him. Possibly. It did not matter, he would reveal himself as soon as possible. Just for a few days, he had to play his role here, make his friends doubt him, until he could sever their strings. If not, they would be determined to go after him, and he had no intention of telling them his life story from the point he had left them.

It had begun with Tom intruding his mind in the Department of Mysteries. Tom had seen his mind, and the other way around, although the latter had been unintentionally. And with that intrusion, their minds had somehow melted together. For a moment, they had been one, one life, for several blissful heartbeats long. As soon as they were forced to part, they had felt themselves ache, a need to be whole and together again, but the fight Dumbledore had evoked had made that impossible. They hadn't seen each other for weeks then, and it had only been a few days before his birthday that they met again. Everything had went so fast from there on…

The hooting of an owl woke him, and he stared down at the creature in wonder. Hedwig… he hadn't seen her for so long, and yet, she didn't act any different than normally… Of course. He thought wryly. For her, this was no reunion, and in fact he hadn't seen her for mere days. In **this**world. For him it was, however, a miracle, and he silently thanked Tom for finding her. He had set her free just before they left, knowing that if he kept her locked up in that cage, none of the Dursleys would feel the need to feed her, and even if he had only been away for a few days to her, she would have been starved.

But like always, Tom had a solution for everything, including finding lost owls. He wondered how many minions he had scared for that… none, probably, and because of that, the whole Dark Sect would be shocked. Tom had changed a great deal in the years they had been away, regaining his sanity, building their relationship and revising the war. It all seemed pointless now, the war. Tom admitted to having drifted far off from his original goals, and now, not being clouded by his hunger for power, he would finally admit that. The point was how the Wizarding World would react upon that, the dissolving of the Dark… many would be relieved, while others, mainly the lower Death Eaters, would be furious. Harry just hoped they would be terrified enough of Tom that they would not try anything stupid. Too many people had died already in the wars Tom had started.

He took the letter offered to him and fed Hedwig some pieces of meat. How strangely nostalgic this was… eating in the Great Hall, surrounded by chattering students, petting his owl after receiving a letter… But the contents of the letter did not fit in that environment at all. Firstly because he and Tom had still been sworn enemies before, and secondly because he would have shared it with his friends.

_My beloved Dylja,_

_I am certain that this letter finds you in good health._

_I want to inform you of the fact that I am in Hogsmeade, and have found the entrance to the castle you told me of. I will be waiting for you in the castle after you have spoken to Dumbledore._

_Keep me as close to your heart as you are to mine._

_Tom._

Harry smiled down on the letter. He wondered briefly if Severus would faint if he let the man read this. After being introduced to the few people Tom actually fully trusted, he had found a good comrade in the Potions professor, Harry not being sure about his part in the war at the time, just like Severus before him. They had had long discussions about it, and Harry had finally concluded that there would be no side he had to take but the side of the people who truly cared about him. And even though he liked his friends here, he would never share such a deep bond with them as with the people he regarded his family now.

Even in that one month before they had left, Harry had gotten to know those people better than he had ever known his friends. Sure, he knew what they liked and disliked, their hobbies, good and bad sides… but these people; Tom, Severus, Lucius, Narcissa and a few others of the Inner Circle…he knew what was on their minds just by looking at them. And they knew him just as well. If he was troubled, they would find an answer, not just by giving him vague advice.

They understood him, and accepted who he was. 'Their cunning snake in the disguise of a foolish, rash, brave lion.' As Lucius had once put it. It had earned him his new name as well, Dylja, disguise. He liked the name, once he had gotten over the fact that it sounded a little girlish. And there was the fact that Tom liked it. Which was pretty much his excuse for everything, from the black and green silk robes he normally wore to the black eye-liner under his eyes, trailing down his left cheek in two curled streaks.

He read the letter again, and chuckled at the last sentence, knowing exactly what Tom meant and pressed a hand over his chest, feeling the part of his lover's soul becoming warm under his touch, feeling the addicting magic throb under it, and around him, just like Tom wore **his**Horcrux around his neck. Against their hearts, one again. It might be horribly sentimental, literally carrying a part of one's soul with them, but that was just the way they were. With each other, anyway. Tom was never so much for showing his kind nature to other people.

"Harry? Are you coming?" Hermione asked.

"Hmm." He grunted, and got up from the table, trailing after them.

* * *

The day really had been a laugh. He couldn't believe that he had once found this level of magic difficult, and he probably had gained more house-points now than in the lesson of his former years together. A parting gift, he sighed inwardly.

"Are you alright?" Ginny said, as she once more tried to gain his attention back. By Salazar, hearing about all these petty pubertal problems about professors, marks and homework made him long back to the long-winded and deep discussions he and Tom always ended up in, about different sorts of long-forgotten magic, about their views on the world or several political and social issues, or about spirituality, literature, trying to analyse the human mind… the list was very long indeed. And now…he had to listen to Ginny, who was ranting about that Professor Sprout really hadn't been fair with the marking, because Ginny was **absolutely **sure she had done it right. Groan. How had he once put up with this?

"Harry? Are you alright?" she asked. "Don't you feel well?" she added in an overdone concerning voice.

"I'm fine Ginny," he said, not even bothering to face her.

"Harry, you're acting so different! You've been avoiding us all day! We're your friends, we're here for you!"

"I know," he sighed. "I'm just tired." Breaking with them was probably going to be harder than he had thought. He had forgotten about the amazing stubbornness and curiousity that was a Gryffindor trait..

"No Harry, something is definitely wrong! Is it your family? Are you having trouble with them? I know how they treat you Harry!"

"Just leave me alone!" he yelled, finally fed up with it. He instantly regretted his outburst as he saw her face, tears forming in her eyes. Damn this… he had never coped well with crying girls…

"I'm sorry Ginny… I didn't mean it. I… I'm just exhausted, really…" he said, draping an arm around her shoulder to comfort her. If he had known how she would interpret the gesture, he would have rather jumped off the astronomy tower.

His eyes widened when she threw herself at him and kissed him on his mouth. It felt so… wrong, those soft lips against his own. Her smell was all around him, just like she was. Hair clung to his face, wet with her tears, like they were red ropes binding him to her. He couldn't move, shocked as he was. Disgust rose in him, for this girl he had once had a crush on. It felt so wrong, her soft hands desperately clinging to him, gripping his neck. She was just a child for Merlin's sake! What would Tom think of him? Tom… Guilt coiled in his stomach. Before he had recovered enough to push her off of him, he felt the Horcrux around his neck stir.

Angry magic radiated around it in waves, and blasted the girl to the other side of the room, where she remained sitting, staring dumbfounded at him with wide eyes. The pendant was still pointing at her, soaring in the air. The chain seemed to be tighter around his neck, giving him a strange feeling of being protected. He grabbed the Horcrux gently, trying to calm it down, rubbing his finger softly over the bronze surface and whispering soothing words to it, and eventually, the magic stilled, though the fierce throbbing of the metal remained, ironically like Tom when he was trembling with anger if he was furious with someone.

Harry got to his feet and went up to his room, not giving the girl another look. He let himself fall on the bed and pulled off the chain. It was strange to not have it around his neck, the metal lying heavy on his chest like normally. He let it dangle in front of his face and traced the substance lovingly with his finger, taking in every detail. Perfect, just like Tom, the one it belonged to. It was a pendant shaped like a V, with a oval purple stone in it above, symbolising magic, and a blue stone in a diamond shape, the colour of his eyes, embedded in the point of the letter. A shield was centered in the middle of the letter, with two ravens and two trees on it, symbolising the contradiction of death and life. Or, as Harry thought sometimes with amusement, showed his worst fear, flying away from the world in spirit form.

To Harry, it had a whole different meaning, although it was too embarrassing to ever mention to Tom. Ravens found home in trees. To him, this pendant was a bit of home that he carried with him. He was the raven, and his lover the tree that sheltered him. He wondered what Tom would say if he would ever tell him that. Probably look at him oddly before grinning smugly and ravishing him right then and there, no matter where they were… Hmm… maybe it **was** a good idea to tell him…

He didn't look up when the door creaked and his once best friend stormed in. He couldn't decide himself if he was too engrossed with the pendant or just too indifferent. The redhead began to throw insults at him, something like harassing his sister. Harry didn't listen any more beyond that, vaguely wondering if Ginny had lied or if Ron was just exaggerating her story. He only reacted as the pendant was grabbed and almost pulled from his hands. He shot up and enclosed a hand around Weasley's throat, pressing the pendant against his chest in rage and desperation. He had almost let it go… he had almost brought Tom's soul in danger! The mere thought terrified him.

"So that did get a reaction huh? Let go of me!"

He released the boy, who had clenched his fists, obviously trying to restrain himself from beating Harry up. Said boy –man, really, even if the other wasn't aware of it.- glared at him with a coldness that apparently unnerved Ron, since Harry saw with satisfaction that a shiver travelled down his spine.

"I know that you're upset with us. We should have written you more often, or contacted you…" Ron said, trying a different approach to reach Harry, who sighed, giving up on his 'ignore the Gryffindors and they will distance themselves.'

Obviously, it wasn't going to work. But why was it that they always referred to themselves as **we **and **us**? It was like they were all one person. Had he been like that as well? Yes, he had to admit. He too had always thought of **we**, **the Gryffindors**, **the Quidditch team**, or just him, Ron and Hermione. Now not anymore… used to socialise with a bunch of former Slytherins, he had discovered that good groups and organisations could only form if everyone thought for himself, individually.

"I know Sirius' death has taken a toll on you, and that you are stressed because of You-Know-Who, but we need you Harry! Talk about what is bothering you!"

"The war." He said solemnly, deciding that the truth would be out in a few days in either case. He knew that Dumbledore had only been here for the welcoming feast. He had Order business to deal with and wouldn't be back for four days. Then, everything could be cleared up. But who said he couldn't begin with that now?

"I know, I know… I imagine it is tough… having to fight that bastard…" Ron said bitterly.

"No, Ron..." he said softly, trying to find the best approach.

"Not? What, don't you think fighting him will be hard? He's a master duelist!"

"That is not what I meant. I meant that I am no longer fighting with him," he said calmly, inferring that the whole story now would be best. If he lied now, that could only work against him in the long run

"…" Ron gaped, bewildered by his calm statement. It took the boy some time to regain his voice.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Voldemort and I…" Merlin, it felt strange to think of his lover as Voldemort. He hadn't called him that in eight years. "When we fought in the Ministry, something strange happened, and for a moment, our souls were poured out into the other, intertwining and becoming one for a moment, before we were forced apart again. After the fight, he slowly began to regain his sanity, and we both felt an ache. A part of us missed. Each other. He sought me out, having a rough guess of where I lived. Since I too, reached out to him, he was able to find me… We ceased fighting and… joined together."

"You've… you've gone Dark?" Ron said with wide eyes, trembling.

"Not in the way you think. I am in no way trying to destroy the Light. I am simply with him, and a few of my other friends."

"It has been hardly a month then! How could you forget us so quickly!"

"A month? Oh no Ron, I have been away for much, much longer. Eight years and a month would be more accurate."

"Eight… **years**? How?" he said shocked, trying to comprehend what he had just heard.

"That is a story for tomorrow. I am in no sense willing to tell it twenty times, so I will tell **all of you,**" he said, accenting the plural form, "tomorrow," he finished, and began to undress himself to go to sleep.

He looked at his old, striped, ragged pajamas of which the colour was uncertain with disgust. Tom had probably rubbed off on him. He decided that he rather slept without anything at all than in **that**. He fastened the chain around his neck again and slid under the sheets. They felt cool against his bare skin, although the cotton was a bit too rough for him. Merlin, how vain had he become, longing back to the silk sheets at home? He would just have to put up with it for a while. Then, he heard a soft whisper coming from the bed beside him, and he turned to face Ron, who watched him with wide eyes.

"Harry, you and You-know-Who… are you… well… damn his is awkward…" he mumbled the last bit to himself, but he said it a bit too loud. Harry chuckled, amusement showing through his eyes as the redhead struggled to put his question in a decent sentence. "You're… involved with him?"

Harry shot him a crooked grin and lifted the pendant to his lips, like he had every night since it had been entrusted to him. He felt the warm acceptance as he bestowed a kiss upon his lover's soul, and he felt like he was kissed back, leaving him wondering if Tom was doing the same at this very moment. Just thinking of Tom made him shiver of all the strong feelings that awoke in him. Love, longing, safety, lust… When he met Ron's eyes again, he knew these feelings also shone through his own emerald orbs, since the other boy had gone white as a sheet. Feeling strangely complacent, he rolled gracefully on his other side.

He heard Ron gasp, as he finally noticed the difference between the Harry of before, and the Harry of now, Dylja. Even if he was frozen in time, it did not mean that his body could not change. He was no longer the skinny, underfed boy of before. His skin practically glowed with health, and he had grown a great deal of muscle mass. But what had changed most, physically spoken, was his posture. He moved with a grace he hadn't ever dared to possess. After all, with Tom silently sliding next to him, he couldn't very well stumble and stamp his way through the world now, could he?

* * *

Read and review!  
xx elfin


	2. Chapter 2

A few notes before the chapter:  
- while Dumbledore takes Harry to meet Slughorn, this has not happened in this story. Slughorn is at Hogwarts, yes, but Dumbledore convinced him to come on his own.  
- I may disregard canon a bit too much here, but Harry's Horcrux is the reason he doesn't age  
- the first part is in italics for a reason.

Enjoy!

* * *

"_I know why you came…" Harry told the man absentmindedly, and turned his head to stare at the shadowy figure watching him._

_He could tell the man was smiling, though it was not visible because of the hood that hid the face beneath it. Harry watched him approach, until they were mere feet away, facing each other. Voldemort was standing tall in front of him, while Harry was sitting on the only swing in the playground that hadn't been broken, his right arm curled loosely around the rusty chain. His feet kicked a bit in the air to get the swing to sway a little. He had longed for this moment, knowing it would come. It had taken a whole month, but he had never given up hope. This knowledge was the only thing that had kept him sane while staying at the Dursley's residence. The knowledge that soon, he would never have to live there again. _

_Voldemort didn't answer him, but instead reached out a pale hand with long fingers. Harry watched the white fingers he'd seen so often in his dreams, with interest. He grinned and got to his feet, feeling the grass beneath his bare feet, still wet from the morning dew. Curiously, he got closer, and stretched his hand out. It felt like he was crossing a barrier of safety, and once he had taken that hand, nothing in his life would be normal again. But he was content with that thought. He had had a month to think it over, and accept it. There was nothing that held him back now. He knew what he wanted._

_Strangely, the moment their fingers touched went by like nothing special had happened. Harry didn't know what he had expected. Flashes? Stars coming from their fingertips? Fireworks in the sky? The__corner of his lips lifted when that last image flashed through his mind. But then he __**did**__ notice something. It was not true that nothing had happened. A warmth spread through his chest when he suddenly got_ _the feeling that he was where he belonged, had always belonged. Home. With confidence, he raised his eyes to peek beneath the hood, and what he saw made his stomach flutter. Burning red eyes seemed to stare deep into his soul._

_His other hand came up to touch the pale skin of Tom's face. He took his time to study the features, let his eyes slide over the slitted nose and the hairless skin. To think that once, he had been repulsed by this… That this face had haunted his nightmares. He now saw nothing but longing in those eyes._

_He let strong arms surround him, and he knew that Voldemort was feeling the exact same feeling as he was. Completion, after a few, lonesome weeks. For minutes, they just stood there, relishing in the other's presence. Voldemort stroked Harry's cheek, and leaned down, his breath tickling Harry's face._

_He smelt strange, but incredibly nice. He had a forestry fragrance around him, combined with an underlying smell of burning wood. Harry inhaled the scent, unconsciously placing his lips on the skin of the other's nape. Voldemort didn't seem to notice either, as he was busy exploring Harry as well. And while it must have looked strange to others, the man and the boy sniffing at each other, and touching each other, especially given the thought they hardly knew each other and had been archenemies before, they found it oddly natural._

_They broke apart, not suddenly, but fluidly, while never really ceasing to have contact, whether it was with their hands, their wondering gazes, or with their feelings._

"_And now?" Voldemort asked, the first words he had spoken, hardly words at all, as they were a nearly inaudible whisper._

_The raven haired boy smiled at him, and took his hand, leading him through the still dark streets until finally, they stopped at a perfect looking house with a brass four next to the door. Harry had left the door open a bit when sneaking away during the night. They walked in and went straight up to Harry's room without waking the other inhabitants of the house. They made themselves as comfortable as possible, given that they were in a Muggle house, with wizard-hating Muggles. But even that fact couldn't overshadow the fact that they were finally together again. Harry wondered why the wards hadn't stopped Voldemort, and made a mental note to ask the man later._

_Now, they just waited until the Dursley's would wake up, so as to tell them that their behaviour of how they treated Harry was not tolerated any longer. Harry smiled, grateful to the man at his side. He had not even needed to ask it, but he had known Voldemort would have a talk with his relatives the day they met again. In his mind, Voldemort had seen how they had treated Harry, and in Voldemort's mind, Harry had seen he did not tolerate it, unlike the Order, apparently…_

* * *

Harry blinked, for a moment not realising where he was, as he searched next to him for a warm body that he did not find. His face fell when it hit him. He was at Hogwarts. Without his lover. With his friends, whom he needed to tell everything. This was not how he had planned it to happen. Ron was up already, searching for something, and it annoyed Harry how much noise he was making while doing that. Couldn't he be **quiet** about it? But no… he was a Gryffindor. And Harry needed to remind himself that once, he had been like that as well. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He was not ready to give them their answers already. In the evening, he told himself. In the evening he would give them his story… or at least the general view of it.

He waited as long as possible before he got up and dressed before heading down. The common room was nearly empty already, and none of his former friends were still there. No doubt Ron would be telling the bunch of them what Harry had told him last night. Not feeling like stumbling upon them, Harry decided to spend his breakfast in the kitchens. As always, the house elves were ecstatic, and tried to stuff him whatever was within their reach. Harry flinched a bit, having to get used to this enthusiasm again. He smiled, however, when he recognised Dobby in the crowd. The elf tried to get close to him, and when he was finally there, he wore a face-splitting grin.

"Mr Harry Potter Sir! Dobby is so glad to see you again so soon!"

Soon… yeah, right.

"Me too Dobby… me too." He smiled, patting the elf's head, earning him another bright smile from the creature.

After being spoiled some more, he announced that he had to leave, not paying attention to the protest that rose with that statement. Memories whirled in his mind as he walked through the corridors. It was strange, to see so many people again after eight years, not having changed at all. And the castle itself hadn't changed either. The feeling that he didn't belong here anymore became stronger with the seconds that ticked by. He did not feel unwanted here, but he **did** feel out of place. He walked past the large pendulum of one of the clocks in Hogwarts. How strange it was, to see the time tick by, knowing that he himself, would never be affected by it. He was so lost in thoughts, that he didn't notice Snape until he bumped into the man.

"Ah, sorry, I… Severus," he said, startled.

"Dylja." The other man smiled. "You've grown much… Strange, to think that mere days ago, you were still a little brat. How old are you now?"

"Twenty-five."

"Six years? You stayed for six more years after I left?"

Harry thought back. Yes, it was indeed six years ago since he had last seen Severus. It did not feel like it though. He could clearly recall their conversations. He had never forgotten the intriguing man, who he had so much in common with. It had taken some time until they had both recognised each other, but once they had, a solid bond had formed between the two of them. He had been saddened when his former professor had to leave, but Severus hadn't wanted to give up his position in Hogwarts, and he couldn't very well explain an aging of eight years. He had stayed as long as possible, but after two years, he couldn't deny that his chances to fool others into thinking that he was still thirty-seven were slim if he stayed any longer.

"Yes. The rest did too… I'm sure you noticed Draco's absence…" Harry told him.

"Indeed I did. How are they all?"

"Fine. They had to leave the country though… They wouldn't be able to explain how they aged eight years in a day, right?"

Lucius had resigned from his job at the Ministry of Magic days before they had left, knowing that he wouldn't be able to return there anymore. His wife and son hadn't wanted to stay behind, and, after having a long conversation with their Lord about it, Tom had given in, seeing that they knew the consequences very well. Now, they were somewhere in France. In Bordeaux, Harry thought. He should owl Lucius to check if he had found another job there already. He pondered on the thought of writing Draco as well. After all, they had a lot of shared experiences in the other world. But he decided against it.

Why should he? Draco and he had never really come to terms with each other. Even if the pranks Draco had pulled on him and his friends were childish and practically harmless, it was the thought behind it that counted. Draco had been a stuck up prat at school, who couldn't accept that Harry had chosen other friends over him. Even now, they were still no friends, their hostility against each other never forgotten.

Harry found Lucius and Narcissa on the other hand, to be very pleasurable company and spent much time getting to know them. They were interesting people, although Lucius had a very cruel side as well. Harry had never apologised for setting Dobby free, for example. But Lucius had never asked him to either. The man had first only tolerated his presence because Tom had. But after a while, a friendship had developed between the two of them. A friendship that neither of them had ever thought possible.

"Indeed. How are you now? Did something happen during the time that I was gone?"

"A lot of things happened… but not much of it is of real concern to you… We mostly tried to build up a life you know. The life we will get here too, hopefully."

"If Dumbledore accepts the situation that is."

"You think he won't?" Harry asked, having his doubts himself.

He knew that it would be hard to get in into Dumbledore's head that he had to cease his little plans. But he also knew that the man sincerely cared about him, not just as a weapon. And now it was not needed anymore. The war would be stopped without having to fight at all. Would it be enough to convince the Headmaster? Many Order members would not be happy with it, he was aware of that. They wanted revenge for their friends and family that had been killed by Voldemort's hands. It was only natural. Harry hoped Dumbledore could see past the hatred, and actually see for himself, the changes in Tom.

Power was not one of his main goals anymore, just like it hadn't been before he delved too deep in the Dark arts. Tom had been very, very lucky that he hadn't been destroyed by it, and had come into contact with Harry's soul, still pure then. Of course, it was tainted now, because of the death on his hands which he had needed to create his Horcrux with. It helped that he had been able to kill the only person he had only ever really wanted to, but it still left him shaken at times. Even with Tom backing him up, convincing him that it was best, he had been hesitant to kill. Maybe that was the reason why his magic hadn't turned black, why he hadn't felt the pull to the Dark arts even after he had created a Horcrux.

At first, he had tried to do it with a killing curse, but it had failed horribly. To kill with that, he needed to really** want** it, and he just couldn't get the will together to murder someone, no matter what they had done to him. In the end, he had had to rely on other curses, finally finishing it with a Diffindo to Wormtail's heart. He remembered Tom, encircling his waist from behind and kissing his tears away. It was one of the few moments Harry had shown weakness in the other's presence. Directly after he had calmed down, he had worked to create the Horcrux, Tom eyeing his every move, correcting him if he was about to do anything wrong.

This, his Horcrux, would be another difficulty when dealing with Dumbledore. The man would see it as Tom corrupting him into killing a person. But Harry didn't see it like that. He fully understood Tom's reasoning, and he too wanted to spend as much time with Tom as possible. Eternity, if that could be realised. And the point was that it could. That it was to be obtained through crude manners mattered less to him than what he would gain with it. It wasn't so much immortality that Harry wanted. No, it was a life with his lover. A life that lasted as long as they could, and wanted to, maintain it.

"I'm just saying that you will have a hard time convincing him that the Dark Lord is no longer a threat to the Wizarding world. He battled Voldemort two months ago. That is sure to be very fresh in his mind. You will need to prepare your talk with him carefully. And you will need to tell him everything that happened, you know that, don't you?" Snape said, worried.

"I realise that. I will try. That is the best I can do. I really need to go now."

"Lessons?"

"Yes… is Slughorn any good?"

"I know very little of him but that he is very experienced. He also seems to gather a club of students around him."

"I know… he invited me on the train. I don't really know if I like him. It doesn't matter either way. I won't have to put up with him for more than two lessons."

"I hope you won't let your classmates think your sudden endowment in potions is because of a change in teacher, hmm?" Severus joked.

"No, I'll let them** know** it is because of that…"

"Why, you little brat!" the man huffed, and Harry walked away, snickering.

* * *

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xx elfin


	3. Chapter 3

He entered the potions classroom, allowing himself to be overwhelmed by feelings of nostalgia. The room had changed slightly, but the atmosphere was still the same. Several cauldrons were standing in the classroom, all having different potions simmering in them. He recognised all of them in an instant, something which he would never have been able to accomplish before. His footsteps sounded hollow, echoing through the room. The door shut of its own accord with a clunk, and the new professor looked up, just like the other students. Harry watched his classmates dispassionately. He could feel their confusion and fear, even radiating from his former best friends, Ron and Hermione.

The others, the Slytherins, who did not know yet that he had changed, sneered at him like always. He couldn't help but hide a smile. If they knew how deeply he was involved with Tom, they would probably cower at his feet. Not that he wanted them to… No, he was never one who liked the servitude of others. He knew entirely too well how it was to be looked down upon so much, having suffered it at the Dursley's. He wouldn't want that for anyone else, no matter how great his dislike for them. He sat down at his usual table, if only to see the reactions he would get. Ron flinched, although Harry was sure the boy wasn't aware of it himself.

"Mr. Potter, how nice of you to join us." Slughorn said with a bright smile, which dimmed a bit when being met with one of Harry's own, cold smiles.

He definitely didn't like the man. Somehow, he reminded Harry of his uncle. Not in the way that he wasn't acting nice to him, but he was always looking for his own benefit in things. In persons. It was all shown in the Slugs, the little group of favoured students he had assembled already. And if a person didn't meet his requirements, he was looked down upon as well, like with Gaston in the train. Te boy had been marked useless by the potions professor the moment he had admitted to not have the contacts Slughorn thought Gaston would have had. And then there was Slughorn's posture, as if everything was right in the world. In** his** world. Harry could almost see little strings coming from the tips of his fingers, attached to the people around them, controlling. Yes, he would only ever be looking for his own benefit. He wondered what had possessed Dumbledore to ask this man for a position in the castle.

"Professor… I am sorry, but, seeing as I received an E for my owls, I did not know I could take this class. When professor Snape was still teaching, he demanded us to have an O. Because of that, I don't have any books…"

"Ah, yes, of course. There are still some spare ones there." The man said, waving to one of the cupboards.

Harry got up and halted in front of it, to find it full with dusty books upon opening the doors. He picked one book up, staring at the worn-out cover. Turning it around in his hands, it fell open, and there, on the first page were scribbled a few words.

_This book is property of the Half-Blood Prince._

Harry couldn't believe his luck to have picked up **this** book. Severus's old potion book. No doubt with a treasure of information. And indeed, when flipping through the book, he found that notes were all over the margins. Some parts were crossed out completely, only to have been rewritten. He slowly walked back to his seat, completely engrossed in the notes. Severus had told him about the changes he had made, and had been grieved by the fact that he had never seen it anymore. To think it had lain here all this time, all these years that the man had taught here in this classroom, the book just a few yards away. Severus would be extremely happy that it had been found again.

Slughorn was rambling about the potions in the cauldrons, and directed the attention of the students in the class to a potion that looked like plain water. Harry knew, however, that it was something much, much stronger. He had witnessed the effects of the draught in his fourth year already, when Dumbledore had given it to the disguised Death Eater, Barty Crouch Jr. Hermione raised her hand high in the air, like always, when Slughorn voiced the question what it was.

"Veritaserum, a colourless and odourless draught that forces the drinker to tell the truth!" She said.

While Slughorn praised her, Harry directed his attention to the other cauldron, which harboured a slow bubbling, mud-like substance, which he instantly recognised as Polyjuice Potion. He could clearly remember the awful smell of Goyle, and the disastrous effects it had had on Hermione. It didn't always taste awful, he had noticed. He had changed into Tom once when playing a prank on Lucius, whom he had nearly given a heart attack with it. They had never dared to tell Tom though. Harry hadn't been very surprised when, after adding a tiny piece of nail – The only real disadvantage of the man having no hair- the colour had changed into deep black, shining like it were strands of silk whirling around in the small vial, with wisps of equally silky crimson through it. He** had** been surprised by the taste though. The flavour of the liquid wasn't really easy to put into words, but it had left a burning taste in his mouth, a hungry feeling in his stomach, making him yearn for more.

Hermione had answered Slughorn's question about what it was already, but before her hand could shoot up a third time, Harry raised his hand slowly in the air when staring at the contents of the third. It had a mother-of-pearl sheen over it, and the vapor rose from the cauldron in characteristic spirals.

"Yes, Mr Potter? I take it you know the name of **that** potion?"

"It's Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession in the drinker. The scent is multi-faceted and based on what the one who smells it likes…" he said softly, enthralled by the potion. He hadn't noticed how close he had gotten to the potion until he breathed in the steam. "For example, I smell forest…" he said, closing his eyes, completely unaware of anything besides the smell. "Forest, with an underlying smell of burning wood…"

There was that feeling again, that never-satisfied hunger in his body. He inhaled the smell that was nearly tangible in the air. The pendant around his neck began to heat up, and Tom's magic became a thick cloak around him. With that smell in his nose and mouth, coursing through the rest of his body, he was very near to being in a trance. Suddenly, the cauldron was taken away and his eyes snapped open. He found he was out of breath, and looked up at his potions professor, who was looking at him in worry.

"Are you… are you alright?" the man asked. "Those smells can be overwhelming sometimes."

"Yes… yes, I'm fine." Harry answered him, still a bit dazed. He sat down again, for he had been standing, hunched over the cauldron. The Slytherins were sniggering and pointing at him.

"Hey Potter. I bet you'd want some of that potion, eh? You can't get any girl without it!" Pansy Parkinson shouted. He didn't pay attention to it. After all, he had more important things to do than listening to children. He eyed the last potion, a small black cauldron. Its contents were of molten gold in colour and little droplets leapt like goldfish above the potion's surface. Felix Felicis… He was distracted from it though, when Hermione whispered to him.

"Forest with an** underlying** smell of burning wood? That's impossible! That second smell would completely dominate the other!" she said, frowning. "Do you know why you smelled it by the way?"

"It's** his** smell." He said softly, waiting for her reaction. It didn't come, except for confusion.

"Whose?" she asked, and Harry turned to Ron, who was trying to keep himself from trembling.

"You didn't tell them?" Harry asked, truly surprised. He would have thought that Ron, being the utter Gryffindor he was, wouldn't have been able to keep secrets from the others. It had always been like that, anyway. But Ron just shook his head.

"Not everything. That's yours to tell…"

"Thank you." Harry smiled, earning him a hesitant smile from Ron. Hermione just looked between the two of them, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Ron told us** something**." She said, glancing at the red-headed boy, "But he wouldn't tell us much. He said you aren't the same as before… not the Harry we know." She whispered.

Ah, so that had been why they had been so confused and fearsome when he had come in. They hadn't known what to expect from him.

"In the evening." He told Hermione softly. "Then I'll explain."

Slughorn was now circling around the golden potion, obviously waiting until someone asked what it was for, so Harry decided to grant him that favor. Immediately after, Harry tuned his voice out, knowing what it did already. His interest was perked again however with Slughorn's last sentence:

"And that is the price I offer for this lesson. One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis. Good for twelve hours of luck…"

Hmm… that could come in handy someday when he won it, and he no doubt would, after Snape and later Tom teaching him potions for years. His level was far above anyone in this class, save professor Slughorn. Plus, with Snape's little notes… however could he fail? He might be able to use it when talking to Dumbledore, he thought, but he repudiated that thought immediately. He couldn't do that. If he were to persuade the headmaster, he would do it on his own, not with the help of some potion… Maybe he could give it to Snape. He knew there were very few books which contained the exact recipe of this potion. No doubt Severus could make one of his own if he had a sample of it. Yes, he would do that…

He started at his task, the Draught of the Living Death. It wasn't a very hard potion, and he quickly had a perfect potion.

"How do you** do** that?" Hermione said, frantically stirring her own potion, which just wouldn't get a lighter shade of purple, whereas Harry's potion was lilac already.

"Experience and good instructions." He chuckled softly. "A tip, crush that bean with the flat side of a silver dagger. It will give you more juice. And add a counterclockwise stir after seven times clockwise."

"No, no, the book says…"

"Have it your way then." He mumbled, and stirred it counterclockwise. It had immediate effect, as it became a very light pink. Hermione looked in his cauldron and began to mumble furiously.

"And… **stop!** Let's see what you made of it…" He grimaced at a few cauldrons, and gave Hermione's an approving look, but when he bowed over Harry's cauldron, he couldn't help but stare.

"This… this is** perfect**! The rightful winner! Good God, it's clear you have inherited your mother's talent. Lily was a genius in potions. Here, as promised. One bottle of Felix Felicis." he said, astonished.

Harry having his mother's genes in potions? If he really would have had those, he should have noticed before, no? But Harry decided to leave the man to his dreams. He knew the **real** reason. He took the small vial and turned it over in his hands. It reflected the light, throwing little flecks on the dark ceiling and the stone walls of the dungeon, which gave Harry the feeling that he was under water. He slipped it into the pocket of his robe and cleaned up his things. Hermione, next to him, slammed her books in her bag with more force than necessary. He took the flask out of his pocket again, and held out his hand.

"Here."

"Wh… what?" she said, startled. "I can't take that!"

"Yes you can. You had by far the best potion in the classroom."

"It was nothing next to yours." She mumbled.

"Yes, because I did not follow the instructions in the book. You did, and you did better than anyone. Your talent in potions is much greater than mine."

She looked at him oddly, as if she wanted to cross-examine him, but she took the potion without another word. Severus could always ask Slughorn for the recipe, Harry thought. Hermione deserved it more than he did, having so much more experience. Her petulancy was gone the moment she eyed the gold substance. Harry wondered what she would try to use it for… knowing Hermione, she would not use it light-heartedly, but find a good moment for it. Together, and with Ron trailing after them, they walked to their next class.

* * *

Harry stood outside, and looked up to the castle. The evening was falling, and he cleared his head. All worries of what was to come disappeared in the background. He narrowed his eyes and gazed up to the sky through his eyelashes. Rain fell on his face and he sighed. He had always enjoyed the rain. It could wash away everything in the world. The moment it began to soak him, he felt as if something of himself went away with it. His burdens and troubles sunk into the earth beneath his feet. Lightning flashed and he smiled, relishing in the thunder that followed. It droned in his ears, not leaving any space to think clearly. He felt his magic burning in his core and reached inside of himself, touching it. The rain began to whirl around him and he stretched his hands, pulling it to him. Water slashed around and on his skin. Only when he was completely soaked, he turned around and walked back to the castle.

In the corridors, Harry passed a ghost and eyed it with pity. It was still a strange idea to him. He would never become something like that. He had thought about it, before. Even before he had known he was a wizard, the idea of dying and coming back as a ghost to haunt Dudley had always been one of his favorite fantasies. Now, he wouldn't be left a choice. Even if he somehow, in some miraculous way died, if someone destroyed his Horcrux and himself, he could not turn into a spirit. He would just… vanish. He sincerely hoped he would never die.

He turned left and waited for the last staircase he had to take to Gryffindor tower. When it finally stopped, with a lot of noise of stone scraping on stone, he calmly walked up, avoiding the fake steps automatically still. He was surprised by it himself, that his mind still remembered silly things like a prank of a magic staircase after such a long time. There was too much free space in his head apparently… He stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed inside the common room through the hole. Talks stopped upon his entry, and he was eyed with curious gazes. They were awaiting his story, and Harry cursed Ron. Did he** have** to tell** everyone**? Or was the rumour mill in Hogwarts just so fast? He was** so** relieved that Ron hadn't told anyone about Tom yet, or he would be facing the wrong end of a lot of wands right now. He saw Ron and Hermione sitting near the fireplace, and approached them, sitting down in one of the armchairs himself.

"So…" Ron began. "It's evening."

Oh, subtle beginning. The corner of Harry's mouth lifted.

"Indeed it is." He said coolly, knowing Ron was just** burning** with curiousity. Not to mention the rest of the students in the room. He gave them ten seconds, although it seemed like he had overestimated them, since three seconds passed silently before he was drowned with questions, all asking what was going on.

"Before I start," Harry began seriously, "I need to ask you to think about if you want to hear what I say. You might not like it at all. Secondly, I'm only telling my best friends anyways. My dorm mates, Hermione, Ginny, the ones who I'm on the Quidditch team with, and members of the DA. The rest, **go**." He said, wondering if that covered all the people he had ever regarded as friends inside of Gryffindor. A few looked heavily disappointed, like Parvati, whom he had gone to the ball with. But he had only asked her because she was one of the only girls without a date… she honestly didn't expect him to see her as a good friend, did she? The rest, the ones he didn't even know well, muttered a bit, sulking because they were left out.

"And the rest? Of the DA I mean?" Dean Thomas said, frowning.

"They can't come here, and you can tell them, if you want. Just make sure you tell the whole story correctly. I don't want some wild rumours to fly around."

He got up, and went up to the boys dorms, expecting the rest to follow him, which they did. They were so predictable. He sat down on his bed, gesturing to them to be quiet. He looked outside of the window, where a thick veil of rain was scourging the grounds and the castle, thinking about where to begin. He could not start with the Ministry, for they would not understand what had happened there, nor could he start with Voldemort coming to him.

"As Ron told you already, I am not the same as before. It is not that I am another person or anything, but mentally, I am. I have spent eight years living in another world, some sort of parallel universe. Don't ask me how I got there, it was through some kind of portal, and I didn't create it… I went there with… some people, who helped me build a life there." He said, unsure of what he should and shouldn't tell them.

"Why did you leave?" Ron frowned.

"To… sort out my life, sort out what I wanted with it. You see, I am not fighting anymore. The war of the Wizarding world, against Voldemort, is practically over."

He was met with a shocked silence, and he gave them a few moments to recover. He used the time to think for himself what he wanted to tell them, and how much. His eyes drifted to the ceiling. Sometimes, in Àlfarheim, there was nothing to do for hours. It was a place of peace, of healing, a place to find yourself. So sometimes he had just sat there, thinking about his life, or other things. He had developed the habit to take in every detail of the place he was in. Now, looking at the wooden ceiling he had looked up to a hundred times, but had never really** seen**, he saw every little splinter of wood, every curve, every variety of colour. He got lost in it for awhile, before a cough woke him up.

"What do you mean with: 'The war is over?'" Hermione said, confused.

"Voldemort is not fighting anymore. If it is up to him, the war has been stopped since the last fight at the Ministry."

"But… but **why**? Are you sure it is not just a trick? I mean…" she stopped abruptly when he raised a hand.

"Now, I don't expect you to understand me, or even believe me, but… I have spent much, much time with him, talking, thinking… We both understand that continuing this war is ridiculous. It was fruitless, on his side as well as on ours. To end it peacefully, without what would have been the famous 'Final Battle' is better."

"And… **when** did you spend time with him?" Caty Bell asked, her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

"He was one of the persons who went with me to that other world." Harry smiled. "In fact, he was the one who suggested it."

Hermione gasped.

"But that was so dangerous, Harry, it could have been a trap!"

"No, it couldn't," he answered her. Suddenly, the words flooded from his mouth, the story perfectly clear in his head. It seemed the rain had done its job. "Before we went away, at the Department of Mysteries, something happened. He intruded my mind, with the intention to use it against me and to destroy me. To find my weakness. He did not succeed. Instead, all thoughts I ever had, were opened to him, flooded into his mind. But at the same time, I too, got his thoughts, memories, dreams… And while we received them, we were one being, one soul. Merged… I **cannot** describe the feeling, since there are no words as to what we felt, but when we broke, we both knew that nothing would ever be the same. Dumbledore interrupted, and sent me away before I got the chance to talk to Voldemort about it… however, that was, of course, not the end of the story.

He couldn't stay away, and since I did not know how to reach him, he came for me. He was different. Very different. His mind was cured somehow, for we all know he has been quite insane for awhile. He admitted that, when he had begun this all, he had never intended for it to become what it did. The massacres, Mugglehunts, even delving so deep into the Dark Arts wasn't planned. I knew, since I had seen his thoughts, seen how he had become that way. But, since he could see it now from** my** point of view, he also saw the wrongs in it. When he came to me, we didn't need words anymore. We knew what the other wanted, and how. I slipped away from my home often since then, or smuggled others in there. Death Eaters who would see reason, who wanted a change as well. It weren't many though. Together, we tried to decide what to do now, but after a month, we were all still… disturbed. It was too strange, too sudden… And that is why he got the idea to, temporarily, move to another world.

Àlfarheim, it was called. It is actually the home of the Light alves. It is a… resting place of sorts. A peaceful world. Needless to say, a Dark Lord, Death Eaters…troublemakers, in the eyes of the alves. But when they heard of our intentions, they were willing to help us, excited that they could do something for another world. So we were adopted into their community. We lived by their rules and standards, we built homes there, and tried to sort out the messes we had made of ourselves. Some of us went back sooner than others. I, together with Voldemort and some others, stayed eight years there. We hadn't planned on staying there so long, but I think it was because we had finally gotten a life. A life worth living. We didn't want to return to this world, where we were regarded as different people as who we had become. But we realised we had to face it one day. Àlfarheim was, no matter how beautiful, not the place where we belonged. And so, we decided to return, to end this war for good."

"And now? Should we just accept it? Just forgive it?" Neville exclaimed suddenly.

"I do not expect you to forgive. Neither does he, for forgiving and forgetting would make everything that happened meaningless. However, you must see that this is best for everyone. To cease fire without another massacre. Too many people have died already. Now, you know what happened to me, and why I might react differently. I am, in fact, years older than you all. The only reason why I came back at all was for one sole purpose. To end this. I will not stay here for this year. Once it is over, I will try to build up a life on this world."

"You… you'll leave?" Dean said with large eyes.

"Yes, I'll leave. I do not think of this castle as my home anymore, and I really don't need to finish my education here. I'll come back at the end of the seventh year I think, to take my NEWTS so I can get a job, but I really don't need to learn anything here anymore. My ties lie somewhere else now."

"Which would be where?" Ginny said, having a desperate look on her face. Harry was sure she hadn't forgotten the events of yesterday.

"With Tom. Known as Voldemort to you. And there ends my story."

She gasped, as if he had hit her, and sprang to her feet. "You… you…" she said, trembling. "Are you and he…"

"My private life is my own." He said, giving her a cold look. "This is everything I had to tell you. Do not ask more. You might not want to know." He gave her a mocking smile, before turning around and rolling on his bed.

The group dissolved in silence. He did not see their faces, but he did not need to to know what emotions and expressions he would see. Suddenly, he felt lonelier than ever, and silently prayed that he would live through the next days.

* * *

read and review!  
xx elfin


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four. And the story goes on… There is much in here that refers to the Northern mythology.**However**, I made my own version of it. Don't go telling me that it is not right, since I know that. Hey, it's a parallel world. Course it isn't the same as the stories on Earth :P

The names I used in the world of the alves are alternative, unusual versions of the names normally used. These however, are not made up by me, like Askur Yggdrasills. It's just another spelling of the usual Yggdrassil. Same with Àlfarheim and Ingve. Normally, they're spelled Alfheim and Frey/Freyr.

* * *

_The air was vibrating because of the summer heat. It would be spring in the other world right now. Earth. It was nearly two years ago since they had left it for Àlfarheim. Harry lazily streched out a hand to the sky and narrowed his eyes. The light filtered through the leaves of the giant tree that stretched over the sky. Harry had been shocked by how different this world was in the beginning, but he was soon used to the thought of living on a world that was shaped like a flat disk, with one giant tree covering nearly the whole sky. The alves worshipped it, and Harry too, took part in some of the circles and prayers for their life source, Askur Yggdrasils. Today however, he wouldn't participate in the circles led by Ingve, the Lord of the alves. Today, he would have to say goodbye to someone._

_He reluctantly got to his feet, looking over his shoulder to his house before walking away to visit his friend. The earth felt warm and dry beneath his feet. He walked up one of the many hills, and stopped when he arrived at the top. In the distance, he could see the huge tree trunk of Askur Yggdrasils, a silhouette against the sky, that was a full of its own giant, vibrating green leaves, looking like it had shot straight thought the earth. It had, really, It rooted elsewhere, on a world far below theirs. It was a pity there was no connection between this world and the ones under them. He would have loved to look around there someday… All strange, small, flat worlds. Nothing like Earth. Really, he should stop thinking about his previous home every ten seconds. He sighed and walked down the hill, towards a small cottage that was –unlike the other residences around here- not made of the opaque filaments of the Blindur hvítur plant, but out of stone. Harry guessed Severus missed his precious dungeons._

_He knocked on the door, unsure of what he was going to say to him. After all, Severus would see him in a few days again or something like that. It was Harry who would have to miss the man for who knows how many years. The door opened and Harry walked in, smiling at the man who had helped him so much in the past years._

"_Dylja. How nice to see you. I take it Tom told you about my departure?"_

"_Indeed. I'm here to… Actually, I've got no idea why I'm here. To speak to you one last time, I think"_

"_I'll see you soon again…"_

"_**You**__ will."_

"_I'm sure you won't miss my boring presence at all, brat."_

_Harry huffed and shook his head, grinning. He let himself fall on the couch, earning him a glare._

"_Make yourself at home" Severus said sarcastically._

"_Already have." Harry laughed._

_They both fell silent, their thoughts wandering back to the memories they had of each other, both here and at Hogwarts. Even as the evening fell, they didn't move or speak. Harry tried to make a memory, as clear as possible, so he would never forget even a single aspect of the man he admired. It was Severus who had dragged him out of that pit of doubt. He had been in two minds for a long time, not sure what he wanted. At first, it had been natural for him to be with Tom, but after a while he had begun to think, __**really**__ think about the consequences, and how it would influence him. It had affrighted Harry. He knew he wouldn't,__** couldn't**__ be the Harry Potter everyone expected anymore. And then Severus had come to him, and told him about his life as a spy. He had ended with the words: _

"_So you see, it doesn't matter who we are to the world, since that world will always have a distorted view of you. As long as you, in your heart, can justify your choices against yourself, as long as you know that what you are doing is right. In your case, there will always be people who think you are 'on the wrong side', whether that is Light, Dark or Gray. Be who__** you**__ want to be, and you will find happiness."_

* * *

Harry woke up with a shock, feeling a rush of very familiar magic coursing through his body. He frowned. That idiot wouldn't… right? When he felt another wave he groaned. He would. He silently and slowly pushed back the sheets so the others wouldn't wake up. He snuck out of the room on his toes, freezing when he heard a particularly loud snore of Ron, a sign he wasn't sleeping deep anymore. After a few heartbeats however, he released the breath he had been holding and dared to walk further. He gritted his teeth together when pushing against the door. A few torturous moments later of trying to push open a creaking door without waking his dorm mates, he slipped through the narrow opening. Why the hell did everything in this damn castle make a sound? Even on the stairs he wasn't safe. When he was finally in the common room his heart sank. Yes, he would.

Tom sat in one of the chairs. Or **lay** in the chair, his legs swung over one arm and his head resting on the other. Harry didn't know if he should be stubborn and stay angry at the man for coming here or if he should give into the feeling of running towards him and snogging him to death. He made a compromise with himself and walked calmly towards him. Merlin, anyone who would have walked in would have immediately alerted the professors, whether they'd heard Harry's story or not. To take such a risk…

Still, a smile tugged on the corner of his lips when he realised Tom was asleep. One of Tom's hands enclosed a small dagger around his neck. Not a real one, of course, but a pendant. Harry had thought very long on what object he wanted to store his Horcrux in, and finally he had made this, a copy of the dagger that Tom had used in the ritual to come to life again. It wasn't one of his happiest memories, not by **far**,but it was something that had brought them closer. Because of the dagger, his blood ran through Tom's veins, binding them. The two Horcruxes recognised the owners, since they both began to vibrate with magic. He stroked Tom's face, waking him up. The moment their gazes met, Harry knew that Tom understood his silent question. No-one could read him like Tom did.

"You felt lonely." Tom simply stated, the sad whisper hardly reaching Harry's ears.

Of all things, of all reasons he could have thought of why he was here, this wasn't one of them. He came because Harry felt **lonely**? Harry realised how stupid he must look when Tom chuckled. No doubt his mouth hung wide open.

"Tom…" he began, but trailed off when finding he had no idea what to say. Instead, he buried his head in the man's chest, letting his lover stroke his head. "Thank you." He whispered.

"Anytime Dylja, anytime…"

"You need to get out of here though… It's nearly morning."

"I'll be in the Chamber if you need me." Tom smiled, and kissed him softly before getting up and pushing open the portrait hole. Harry didn't even want to begin to figure out how he had gotten past the portrait in the first place, or snuck through the corridors unnoticed. Maybe these days wouldn't be so hard after all.

He went to his room again, but after minutes of shifting and turning in his bed without being able to sleep, he dressed and went down again. Just when the thought that he might be able to get away before anyone else woke up occurred to him, Hermione got downstairs. She tried to avoid his gaze as well as possible however, so he didn't think she would bother him much today. That thought was blown away when she spoke up.

"Harry… I was wondering… that world you went to. If the books on portals and other worlds are correct… shouldn't you have aged?"

And the books were always right, of course. There would be no use in denying that.

"Leave that topic be Hermione," was all he said. There was no way he would explain the concept of a Horcrux to her. Not that she would want to hear him out anyway. He started to walk away again, but closed his eyes and sighed inwardly when he felt her grab his wrist. It was not like he couldn't get loose… nothing would be easier for him. Just a little twist and he would be free. It was her intention, that silent, desperate plea that went with the gesture, that made him stay where he was. He turned his head and looked into her eyes. Her brown eyes were watery, as if she could break into tears any moment. Why was it that girls always started to cry around him?

"Please, Harry… don't do this. I… I just want to… **understand** you. Voldemort… has he done something to you? Something to make you forget us?"

Harry let out a humourless laugh. How typical. Blame it on the Dark wizard. Not that he didn't understand her reasoning… He would have thought the same in the past. This time, he** did** move his wrist. Her hold was getting annoying.

"No. He didn't," he said, looking into her eyes, and he knew she would find the truth behind his statement in his own. You cannot lie with the mirrors of your soul, no matter how hard you try. She made a choking sound, which could be interpreted as either a gasp or a sob. She knew she had lost him. That realisation sent a shudder through him, and an immense feeling of loss crushed him suddenly, yet he refused to show her. "It is me…" he continued. "I've become too different from the person you once knew," he whispered, almost pleading her. A pleading for understanding. She swallowed and moved away from him, her hands balled into fists.

"You love him, don't you?" He knew she would have figured out the meaning of his words to Ginny quickly.

"Yes."

"**Why**?"

That question held so many answers. Too many, and most of them she wouldn't get, he knew as much. How could she? That strange pull he had felt… It had been so natural, so** normal** to them, but she would want reasoning behind it. A motivation. There had been none in the beginning, just their feelings, and the intuition that what was happening was right. Instead, he thought about the conversations he had had with Tom. They were so alike, he and Tom. Perfect for each other. It was odd that they had stayed enemies for so long. Soon, they hadn't even needed that pull to each other. It was more than just some crush. He truly loved him, for who he was, what he did. Not for what he had done, no, but that lay in the past, and Harry was willing to forgive. Tom hadn't been Dark Lord Voldemort for years.

"Because we understand each other so completely. Together, we are one person, alone, we weren't even half. We were none. I can't describe my relationship with him to you Hermione… isn't it enough to know that he makes me happy? That he makes me feel like I finally belong somewhere? And I do, truly."

"You belong** here**, with** us**."

"Not anymore," he said, maybe a little harsher than he had intended. She wasn't the only one having a difficult time… First, he had broken with them by going away. Now, he needed to face them again, only to break with them for a second time… Hermione looked like he had slapped her, but finally, she nodded, her face a stony mask, which he knew would break the moment she was away from him.

"I know," was her final whisper before she scurried from the room.

* * *

This day was harder than the previous one. Much harder than any day he could remember since the end of his fifth year. More people than ever avoided him, more even than when they believed him to be Slytherin's heir, or when they thought him crazy when he had declared that Voldemort had returned after the Triwizard tournament. He wondered who had spread the news. His once friends in Gryffindor wouldn't, he knew as much, but he had told them that they could tell the members of the DA. No doubt one of them had something against him. Smith, maybe? Whoever it had been didn't matter. The fact that every student of the school moved out of his way now did. Nothing went as planned, and he was infinitely thankful for Tom being here, not far beneath his feet.

The only ones who seemed uninformed were the professors, who treated him much the same as ever. The Slytherins gave him odd looks, not knowing how to act around him, and avoiding him more out of habit than fear, like the rest did. He knew their behaviour would change in the coming few days, when they really thought things over. Strange that he could analyse any Slytherin better than his former friends right now. Or not, considering that he spent years with the only permanent company Tom, Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, Avery, Rabastan, Rodolphus and Bellatrix.

Ah, Bellatrix. She had been a real pain in the beginning, but Àlfarheim had done her some good as well. She had only come because she followed her Lord to the end of the world. Further even in this case. Harry hadn't wanted to speak with her at first, but slowly, he had gotten over his hate. Sirius had chosen his way, Bellatrix hers. Sirius knew what he would go into when he fought at the Ministry, the risks attached to said fight. Was it Bella's fault, for killing one of her greatest enemies? Was it Harry's maybe, for believing the visions? Was it Tom's, for playing with the mind of an enemy to attain something he so desperately wanted? Or was it Dumbledore's, for keeping Sirius locked up for so long that he became reckless? Maybe, maybe not. It didn't matter anymore now, who was to be blamed. Nothing would change his death, since no-one returned from the veil. Especially not when he had been hit with a killing curse before even touching the portal to the dead.

Once he had sorted that out, he had searched Bellatrix out, finding her in a surprisingly sane state. The healing aura of their new home had not only worked for Tom, but also for her. She was good company after he had made it clear that he wasn't her enemy now. It had been easy to convince her. The Dark Lord was, in her eyes, never wrong in judgment, and if Harry sided with her Lord, then she would accept him with open arms. Some might be fooled by her attitude, thinking she wanted more, but she was in no way –and had never been- involved with Tom romantically. She clearly loved Rodolphus, although sometimes he got crazy by her idolatry of their Lord. But to her, he was a God, and Gods are untouchable, in more than one way. And thus, Rodolphus never had a real problem with it. He too, admired their Lord.

Harry had been afraid that they would turn against Tom when he had lain off his title of Dark Lord, when he had renounced the name Voldemort. It hadn't happened. As said before, they followed him everywhere, and what he did, was always good. He felt a sudden urge to run from his classroom and storm into the Chamber, where Tom was hiding, waiting patiently for him. Another plus when you were immortal. You had all the time of the world… Harry however, was still twenty-five and in no way used to his immortality, patience included.

He raised his hand, feigning illness. McGonagall was the only one in the classroom who believed him. Luckily, she was the only one he needed to believe him. He skillfully managed to elude Ms Norris and Filch, using shortcuts solely known to him, Tom, the Marauders and the Weasley twins, and snuck down to the Chamber.

The many dark, clam corridors reminded him of the Maze of peace, an underground labyrinth, that, should it be exposed, should have the form of a flower. He had always wondered how the alves knew it had that shape, and he wondered if they would be disappointed if someone would remove the upper layer of soil, and it would appear that it didn't look like one at all. Because, how could it have been dug in that shape, in the dark, with no guidance point? He hadn't dared to ask, since after the first hints he had given them that pointed in that direction had offended the alves deeply. Sacrilege. He had been a heretic in their eyes, so he had just entered the maze without asking any further questions. It had cost him a long time to redeem himself in the eyes of the alves after that incident. He knew better now than to question their beliefs. They were quite fond of the 'because we say so' mentality.

He liked the alves. Not because of their attitude towards them, since it was kind of hostile, but because of the simple fact that they had let them stay on their world. No matter how they were treated there, like some experiment, it showed that their nature was good. Had they been humans, then they would have been at war with them within a day. Most humans didn't take kindly in aliens who tried to live on 'their' world. And they had tried to teach them the ways of their planet, their beliefs, their way of living. None of them were truly friendly, and Harry had felt like a toddler in their presence when they taught him, behaving like they were oh so superior beings.

Myrtle was nowhere to be seen, a fact he was grateful for, and he approached the sink with the little engraved snake. He twisted his head, imagining it to be real. The Parseltongue came more naturally to him now than it had in his second year. Tom had helped him with it, and now he could distinguish Parseltongue and English when he heard it. And indeed, the single word that left his mouth had a vague, hissing undertone. He quickly stepped backwards when the sink began to move.

He landed on his feet, which was quite an accomplishment after a long, slimy pipe that dumped you on a floor that moved because of the many little skeletons that were piled up there. With every step he felt as if he broke tons of tiny, bleached skulls and bones. The corridor looked sinister, not only because of the floor, but also because of the small amount of green light that had managed to penetrate through the cracks in the walls. It was cold down here, and he cursed the fact that he hadn't thought of that, not bringing an extra coat with him or something. Not that he could have gone back to Gryffindor tower to get it… and coming here had kind of been a decision in a spur of the moment… He was surprised when he saw a great heap of Basilisk skin, on the same spot where he had seen it in his second year. He had thought it would have rotten away by now, but it had been conserved quite well. He climbed through the hole in the large heap of stone where the ceiling had crashed down because of Lockheart, and walked to the end of the corridor to the door with the snakes.

It was open already, and he climbed through it, jumped down the last bit and hit the ground with a hollow thud. The chamber was just as he remembered, without a giant snake and a nearly dead Ginny this time. He wondered if Tom had removed the corpse of the Basilisk. He searched for Tom, and found him floating in the water of one of the black, square pools. He knew he was already noticed, and blue eyes found green. Harry walked slowly to the pool and crouched down.

"Couldn't take it anymore?"

Harry made an agreeing sound and Tom heaved himself out of the water. Harry played around with the thought of just staying here until Dumbledore came back. Feeling Tom embrace him, he decided to do just that.

* * *

Read and Review!  
xx elfin


	5. Chapter 5

The atmosphere in the castle shifted, becoming anxious, mimicked by its inhabitants who ran around like restless ants. It didn't take long for the first people to figure out what was wrong, different. Whispers went back and forth through the corridors, reaching even the most hidden of spaces. Ideas and thoughts were voiced and whirled around, and even the ones who always caught on last, like the teachers, became aware of the fact that someone was missing.

Unaware of the commotion he was causing in the castle above, Harry spent his days in peace, together with his lover. Years ago, he might have become bored, but now, the silence didn't make him feel uncomfortable at all. He lay on the black marble tiles of the Chamber, staring up to the ceiling, feeling content to just listen to their breaths for hours. He marveled at the perfect structure of the room, with its silent serpent guardians made out of stone, which emitted a calming green glow. Harry heard soft splashes from behind him, bare feet walking through the thin layer of water that covered most of the floor.

He tilted his head slightly backward, and smiled when meeting Tom's beautiful eyes, love evident in the deep blue orbs. He sat up and got to his feet in a fluid motion, letting a soft sigh escape his lips. Tom raised his arm and placed it on Harry's shoulder. Harry grimaced, not liking that his peace had to be disturbed. Automatically, he pressed himself against his lover's chest, a silent plea for comfort. He melted away in Tom's embrace, closing his eyes and allowing himself to let his mind go blank a few minutes, before heading up to the noisy life of the castle he had avoided the last days. He felt Tom's energy enveloping him and thankfully accepted the magic given to him for strength.

"Remember, I'll be with you with every step you take, every word you say. Every single heartbeat of yours in synch with mine." Tom spoke, and touched the pendant on Harry's chest, sending a rush of magic through it while Harry did the same with the dagger around Tom's neck.

Harry reluctantly drew back, knowing he couldn't hide here forever, even though he would like to. With a flick of his hand he dried his clothes that were wet from the tiles, turned around and began to walk to the other end of the Chamber.

XxX

Finally, she had figured out where Harry had to be hiding. It was the only place in the castle no-one else had access to. She knew that Harry had left on his own, not like Harry's other friends believed. Even Ron and Hermione thought that somehow, You-Know-Who must have taken him away again. Such rubbish. He had come here because of Voldemort, so why would he leave before doing what he wanted? However, Ginny was persistent to not let him leave after that. Harry was hers. Oh, she knew that Voldemort was a genius in manipulation, but she wasn't planning to let Harry become victim of that thing. Directly after her classes were finished, she rushed to the second floor. Wary, she entered the girls' lavatory. Nothing seemed to have changed, the sinks standing the same as ever. It seemed ridiculous now that those tall, robust constructions could move at all. Ginny heard a giggle, and she jumped when she saw a figure behind her in the mirror.

"He's already left, you know. I wouldn't waste your time here staring." Myrtle told her on a nasty tone. "Not that he would** like** it if you followed him."

"What do you mean?" Ginny bit back, knowing deep down how true that was.

"Haven't you seen his eyes?" the girl said, a whine beginning to form in the back of her throat, audible at the end of her sentence. "Those hardened eyes, once so soft and understanding…he is not who we once knew…" she started sobbing, and disappeared into a toilet with a loud splash.

"And how would **you** know? You've only spoken to him, what, three times?" Ginny yelled at her, getting a knot in her stomach when hearing those words, but Myrtle couldn't hear her anymore.

Furious, she stomped out of the room. Where could he be now? She had been too late…Suddenly, pieces of the explanation he had given them floated through her mind. Ending the war for good. There were only three people who he could go to for that. Voldemort for one, but if she had to believe Harry he already wanted that, though she couldn't fathom** why**. Secondly, Fudge, but really, why come to Hogwarts for that? That left Dumbledore. She sprinted to Dumbledore's office, but hesitated in front of the Gargoyle. How would she get in? She settled down on the stone floor next to it, hoping someone who knew would come. Only, if she had known who she would encounter here, she wouldn't have been able to sit there so calmly.

XxX

Dumbledore sat calmly inside of his office. He had just had a talk with Minerva, and was still pondering on what she had said. It made sense, somewhat, although he could not imagine how it would have been possible for Harry to run over to the Dark. Firstly, there was no motive. Secondly, there had been no** time**.** If** Harry was Dark now, it was because he was controlled. Albus could recall the overwhelming Aura around the boy very clearly, and wondered about the possibility of a very strong controlling spell. He should have recognised the magic sooner, he knew. There was no doubt that it belonged to Voldemort. The only thing about it that left him in the dark were the foreign feelings attached to said magic. He had clearly felt the darkness, which was understandable, and even the possessiveness he could place if Voldemort thought that Harry was on his side now. But Albus had felt** love**. Love, of all feelings, had been woven through that magic. Now he just needed to know **why**.

He knew that the boy had not left the school grounds. The instruments in his office that checked the wards would have given him a signal, even if he himself was someplace else. No, Harry would come to him, he was sure. In fact, he thought, raising his head and staring at the door with focus, he might already be here.

"Come in," he said, forcing his voice to stay neutral.

The door opened, and Albus tried not to gasp as violent magic rushed through the room. No, there was no mistake indeed. He froze when his eyes met Harry's. This was** not** the boy he had known. He had noticed a change during the welcoming feast, but it had only been a fraction of what he saw now. There was no forced mask now, no strained smile. There were only those eyes, brighter than ever, and a posture that left no doubt as to what Harry was. A man who had faced life itself, and in that moment, Albus felt awed, and very, very small. He motioned Harry to sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk, and frowned in thought when the movement went fluid, without the hesitation and awkwardness he was used to from students. When Harry took place, it almost looked regal, as if he sat on a throne, his legs crossed and an arm draped loosely over one of the armrests of the polished wooden chair. The picture of self-confidence.

"Harry, my boy…" he begun, and immediately knew he had made a mistake by the small, slightly irritated sigh that escaped the man's lips. Feeling insecure, and not knowing what else to do, he decided to wait for Harry to speak up.

"Albus." Harry said, and somehow, the use of his first name didn't feel strange at all. They were no longer master and student, although Albus didn't yet understand how that shift had happened.

"I apologise, Mr Potter." He said simply, and a soft chuckle broke through Harry's cold face.

"Please, call me Dylja."

Disguise. The thought that somehow, that name fitted the raven-haired man now better than anything, fluttered through his mind.

"Dylja then. I have heard much about you since I returned to the castle this morning. I won't lie about it: I would be disappointed if even half of it were true."

"I think indeed about half of it will be true. A few days ago the stories were much fancier than when I first told them."

"So you did not have contact with Voldemort during summer?" Albus said in a hopeful voice, although he knew very well that his hopes would be bored into the ground soon. That was confirmed by Harry's, no, Dylja's sad, sympathetic smile, and a slight shake of his head.

"That would be asking for too much, as you very well know."

"A man can hope." Albus sighed.

"Yes, well, and that would be the moment I reveal the good news. I won't go twisting around it for long. I came here to announce you that the war is over. At least, it will be if you agree. No, let me speak out." Dylja told him, when he wanted to interrupt. "Let me first explain, well, **this**." He spoke, gesturing vaguely to himself. "I will begin at the beginning. Other than my 'fellow students', I think you will be able to understand it best if I begin there. At the Ministry just before the summer holiday to be precise."

Frowning, Albus made himself a cup of tea, somehow knowing that he was in for a long sit.

XxX

Ginny was becoming impatient. Usually, when you were somewhere in a lonely corridor, and thus out of class, there would always be a teacher who sprung out of some god-forsaken corridor to tell you to go to your dorm. However, when you** needed** one… She sprung to her feet and began to pace up and down, muttering every kind of sweets she could think of, both Muggle and Magical, but the stupid Gargoyle wouldn't let her pass. Finally, she gave up, but just as she was about to leave to search for a teacher in one of their offices, she caught sight of a man, walking slowly towards her. She felt her blood run cold and her limbs went numb the instant she noticed him, her head shaking slightly in denial.

He saw her and frowned, before his face lit up in recognition. But that couldn't be. She had met Tom, yes, but never** Voldemort**! How? He didn't even look the same, but Harry had described the Dark Lord to her and the rest of the DA. The only thing that wasn't right were his eyes, but the rest of him was still enough to make her want to disappear into the wall behind her. And still, she felt strangely relieved that he looked nothing like he had in the Chamber, that it was not the handsome, charming boy that fooled everyone with his smile before destroying them.

But then again, it was no good thing that this was Voldemort, and not Tom. If she had to believe Harry, -from **before** he lost his mind and went over to Voldemort's side- then Voldemort was a hundred times more powerful and manipulative than he had been when younger. She wanted to run, but found she had no control over her body. Her legs were locked with fear and her arms hung uselessly down her body. All she could do was stare.

"Ginny? Ginny Weasley?" he asked softly, frowning. She clenched her fists together in shock when recognising his voice.

"Voldemort," she said in a raspy, terrified voice, her throat dry.

Then he laughed. Actually** laughed. **"It's been a long time since someone has called me that… quite some time. Harry isn't fond of it, and truly, neither am I anymore. Too many bad memories go with that name…"

"And not with your other?" she frowned, before freezing again in horror. She had spoken against the darkest wizard in history, criticising him. OGodoGodoGod.

"I suppose… But still. I can identify myself more with Tom Riddle now than with Voldemort."

"Why?" she asked, trying to push her luck. He didn't look like he was going to attack soon.

"Didn't Harry explain what happened during the fight at the Ministry? Or after?"

"Yes… though…"

"You thought I bewitched him?" he asked, amusement in his voice. "Yes, well, I can't really blame you for thinking that. Especially not you…"

"What do you want Harry for?" she suddenly blurted out, not liking where this conversation was going. She did not want to, and would not be reminded of what had happened during her first year in the Chamber of Secrets. And truly, she wanted to know this more than anything. What was the** real** reason he was after her Harry? Harry had suggested they were… involved, but really, she couldn't see it. There was no way that Tom Riddle was romantically with someone and truly meant it. He had to have some ulterior motive.

He made an unexpected move, and all of a sudden, he was in front of her, his eyes burning a way into her very soul. And not in a good way. Vaguely, she felt something similar to what the Diary-Tom had once done to her. She knew he was reaching into her mind at this very moment, reading her mind like an open book. He smiled, but somehow she got the feeling that it was different from the false smiles she had seen from him from now. Or had he just become better at acting? He softly touched her temple with a cold finger. The contact woke her up slightly, and she managed to scramble backwards.

"Stay out of my head!" she gasped, terror running through her again. Her eyes flashed from her right to her left, but she couldn't see an escape route. He had her trapped against the back of a wall.

"I am sorry, but I doubted that you would tell me what went on in your head, so I took the… privilege to see it for myself. I know I can't convince you with words, but… how about I offer you a trip in** my** head?"

Now she was truly gobsmacked. Voldemort did **not** just say that. Impossible. No way that he would let anyone intrude his thoughts. Right?

"How?" was all she managed to say.

Instead of bothering to answer her, he hissed something in Parseltongue, and made a waving movement with his hand. The air began to stir and firstly became liquid, after which it turned into a solid material. She wasn't sure what. Some sort of stone, maybe? He lowered the thing, which appeared to be a basin, filled with a strange silver substance. She suddenly recalled Harry describing something similar. A place for thoughts… a Pensieve.

The situation was utterly unreal, she thought, staring up at Voldemort's face when he handed her the thing. In the whirly dephts, she saw faces of many persons, and places she didn't recognise. Before she could ask what to do with it, or even before she could refuse, Voldemort took her head and pushed it through the surface. Her last thought before she hit the stuff, was that she believed Voldemort was going to kill her at last. By drowning nonetheless. However, the expected struggle against the liquid didn't come. Instead, she fell right through it. Not just her face, but her whole body had been sucked into the bowl.

_She was met with a strange view. It was clear she was outside, on a large field filled with nothing but grass. However, there was no blue sky above her head. When she gazed up, she was met with the sight of thousands of giant leaves, so green it almost pained her eyes to look at it. Strangely enough, it looked like they were all connected to the same branches, and when she followed them with her eyes, she could finally see where they came from. In the far distance was a __**huge**__ tree. That moment, Ginny decided she had seen everything. Laughter sounded from behind her, and she turned around. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Harry, wildly spinning around in circles._

"_Catch me Tom!" he yelled, and let himself fall down in the long grass. Suddenly, she became aware of two other persons. Both of them Voldemort. One of them rushed right past her as if he couldn't see her and caught Harry just before he hit the ground, grinning. The other stared at the scene with a sad gaze. "Got you…" whispered the memory-Voldemort, hugging the younger boy. They both lay down in the waving, yellow grass, just staring at each other. Ginny saw that Voldemort walked up to her, and didn't struggle when he took her arm and gently pulled her away from the others, who were oblivious to their presence. Reluctantly, she let herself be led away from the peaceful meadow._

Many memories followed, most of them of Harry and Voldemort, whether they were just reading, Harry leaning against Voldemort's legs, or talking animatedly with each other about all sort of topics. It was those talks that were most enlightening. There were many conversations about the war, and the more she heard, the more Ginny became convinced of something she would have never believed. Voldemort had now seen the error in his ways. It was amazing, and yet she couldn't help but feel empty because of it, since it meant that Harry did all this out of his free will, thus also being sincere about loving Voldemort. She was sure the other man had noticed, for again, he guided her away from the memory.

"I think you've seen enough?" he asked her softly, and she could hear his concern. She blinked and nodded slowly. This time, she felt a shock and a pull, as if using a Portkey, and moments later she landed in the castle again.

When she arrived, she let herself fall to the floor, overwhelmed by the great deal of information she had to convert. It felt as if her world had been turned upside down. Nothing was as she had believed it to be anymore. Voldemort wasn't the bad guy anymore, not someone to fight against, and Harry belonged to someone else. She had even seen the Death Eaters, said to be heartless, in a whole different perspective. But now what to do with it?

"I believe you." She finally said, looking Tom in the eyes so he could see she meant it. "And… and if Dumbledore doesn't, I'll give him a piece of his mind." She grumbled, giving herself a new task, namely: doing everything in her power to make Harry happy. There was this old saying that if you claimed to love someone more than anything, you should fight for them, live for them, die for them, but also be able to leave them. So that was what she would do, no matter the cost of her own happiness. Maybe she would find someone else, once, she hoped… maybe.

Tom merely nodded and gazed at her with sadness. She could feel that he was sorry. The compassion was a strange emotion to be seen on that face, the face of a man who had killed hundreds. He might believe that it was that world, Àlfarheim, that had cured him, but she knew it was Harry. It had to be Harry. The lucky bastard Tom was… She looked up when she heard him mumble something and the Gargoyle sprang aside. Startled, she saw he was waiting for her with an expectant look.

"Weren't you going to give Dumbledore a piece of his mind?" he chuckled, and she smiled weakly, scrambling up and walking past the stone guardian before it hopped back in place.

XxX

"Dylja…" Dumbledore started, and somehow, Harry didn't think that what he was going to say was positive. It had been too much to hope for, obviously. "I believe you… but I cannot just stop the war." Harry remained silent, tapping his fingers on the wood of the armrest, a quirked eyebrow the only indication that he had heard the headmaster. "You must understand me, not many are willing to just give up fighting everything they believe in."

"That doesn't apply anymore. There is no Dark Lord now. What they want to fight for now, would solely be based on revenge. You** can **stop this war, Albus. If you couldn't, I wouldn't have come here. In fact, you are the only one who can give his consent. The only one the people will listen to."

"I want to know something first… your magic is clouded, and Toms magic is hanging around you. That cannot simply be because of the time spent with each other. How? And there is something else which you haven't answered. Being in another world should not affect time. Yet, you are sitting in front of me, and, though I cannot deny that you look healthier than ever, you have **not** aged."

Harry had known these questions might be brought up, and gritted his teeth. He could not simply lie, but the credibility of his story would, in Dumbledore's eyes, by reduced to nothing. He silently called out for Tom, knowing he would notice. Harry had already felt his presence near. "Horcruxes." He said curtly. "I carry his on my person, just like he does with mine."

"Yours?" Dumbledore choked. "What do you mean, yours? Harry… that is… that is awful magic, darker than anything…"

Harry shut him up with a cold glare. "I will do what is necessary to remain with Tom, for as long as possible. I got the possibility and I took it."

"Did he force you?"

"He is as afraid of my death as of his own. He did not **force** me per se, but strongly persuaded… yes. Please understand, I am in a dangerous position, now more than ever. By abruptly ending the war, confusion will arise. The Light Side will think I have gone Dark, the Dark Side will think I have changed their Lord. Both are partially true, but still. They will seek the cause of this mess, and they will see me. I am not willing to die because people who can't accept mine and Tom's decisions, are out for my blood. Neither is Tom willing to sacrifice me for it."

"So you did not just do it to strive for immortality?" Dumbledore asked, and his eyes got a hopeful twinkle again, like a child that needed to be reassured.

"In a way, you could say I did, for I want to be with my lover as long as possible. If that can be eternity, I'll gladly pay the price. Besides, I did not kill an innocent man. In fact, I think it was quite merciful. If the Light had gotten hands on Wormtail, he would've been shipped off to Azkaban to be Kissed. Killing him… saved him in a way."

"Nothing justifies killing."

"Not even when you spare them a lot of suffering, after which they would, inevitable, die anyways?" he smiled sadly when seeing Albus' face. "I **do** want you to know that I did not enjoy it."

Albus' answer went unspoken, for the door opened, revealing Tom and, to Harry's great surprise, the last person he would have ever thought to remain calm when standing next to him, Ginny. He studied her expression, which was determined, yet he saw that just beneath the surface, she was suffering and full of sorrow. His gaze travelled to Tom's face and, not even aware of what he was doing, he rose from the chair, slowly walking to Tom. He inhaled that intoxicating scent and felt Tom's arms wrapping around him. Harry immediately melted in his embrace. Tom always had that strange effect on him, like gravity itself shifted when he came close. Only after a minute, Harry could release him with a shaky breath, and turned to the Headmaster again, slowly feeling the magic that had rushed through the room on their contact, fade to a slow vibration in the air.

"Dumbledore." Tom finally spoke.

"Tom." The man said, tense, and Harry saw he was clearly surprised that Tom didn't comment on the use of that name.

"Well?"

"I believed it, at first… but now…" he said, trailing off. "Horcruxes." He finished upon Tom's penetrating, expectant look.

"So I should just take a chance and let him die?"

"Professor!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed. "I… I know it is hard to believe, but I have** seen** it. He has changed… Please, just stop the war before more people suffer in it."

"Seen?"

"I borrowed her my Pensieve and let her come to her own conclusions." Tom said shortly.

After a long silence, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, and gave him a hesitant smile "Then maybe that will convince me too," he said.

Tom nodded and made it appear again, stepping back as Dumbledore leaned over it, touching the surface with his crooked nose. No-one in the room said something as Dumbledore went through the memories. Harry knew that Tom was really putting his trust in Dumbledore by letting him go on his own, for there were more memories stored in there, even from before those eight years. Harry though, was sure Dumbledore would not invade Tom's privacy like that. Thinking about privacy, he suddenly couldn't help a soft chuckle to escape his lips. When Tom looked at him questioningly, he just shrugged and said:

"I suddenly imagined Dumbledore's face when accidentally stumbling upon one of** those** memories." He snorted, and Tom suddenly looked worried.

"I hadn't thought about those…"

"Which?" Ginny asked curiously. "Oh." She said and reddened when she got two annoyed looks.

Finally, Dumbledore raised his head, frowning and leaning back in his chair again, pondering on what he had just seen. After a while, he looked at them with a serious gaze.

"I have seen enough to believe you, but don't break my trust. I will stop the war, on the condition that you will find a way to send all the Death Eaters who still want to fight, to Azkaban."

Three breaths of relief were heard, and Harry smiled at the headmaster. "We won't forget it. Thank you Albus."

"What are you going to do now?" the headmaster asked, curious. "I take it that you won't stay at Hogwarts anymore?"

"Building up a life here." Harry said. "Though, you haven't seen the last of me yet… I** will** come back for the NEWTS."

"Of course. You can fill me in then, hmm?"

Harry nodded and turned around, but just as they left the office, he heard Dumbledore call out.

"Oh, and Harry?" he said, and Harry noticed the change in name again.

"Yes?"

"Good luck."

He smirked before turning around and the three of them walked down the winding staircase. Once in the corridor, it finally hit him. They were free, finally, they were free. He knew that he could leave it to Dumbledore to take care of the rest, like informing the Ministry. They could begin their new, endless life. He carefully hugged Ginny, knowing that they couldn't have convinced Albus without her, and she hugged him back, clearly surprised, making him promise to write her from time to time, to inform her how it was going. They walked through the castle, which was almost deserted, since most students were in the common rooms by now. To his delight, he saw through the windows that it was raining heavily, and he nearly dragged Tom with him, outside.

When he opened the doors and walked outside, he cast one, long glance over his shoulder, taking in the Hall fully. Hogwarts, the first place he had been able to call home, the first place where he had learnt what magic was, where he had gotten friends with whom he had shared so many adventures. He knew that that part of his life was over now, but he still had his memories. And maybe once, they would be able to forgive him.

"Dylja…" Tom said, and cupped his face, bestowing a sweet kiss on his lips, before descending the last stairs.

Taking his lover's hand, he walked to the gates, letting the veil of rain wash his worries away again, letting the old Harry Potter behind him in the muddy streams of water.

~The end~

* * *

I really enjoyed writing this story, and I want to thank everyone who read this, and especially everyone who reviewed this, for their support.

Read and Review!  
xx elfin


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